


Need a Primitive Fix

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Epistolary, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Genevieve Kirk attempts to get it on with those who are destined to become her senior staff and the one time she doesn't even try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need a Primitive Fix

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days, I will get around to posting my (meta) thoughts about always-a-girl!Kirk, but until then, this story will have to suffice. The title comes from "Extraordinary" by Liz Phair.
> 
> For visual reference, Emily Rose ([1](http://pics.livejournal.com/tocourtdisaster/pic/000311s0), [2](http://pics.livejournal.com/tocourtdisaster/pic/00032yb2)) is my girl!Kirk, though feel free to imagine whomever you'd like in her place.

> **TRANSCRIPT OF TRANSMISSION BETWEEN _U.S.S. KELVIN_ (NCC-0154) AND _U.S.S. KELVIN_ SHUTTLE (NCC-0154-37-M), STARDATE 2233.004:**

KIRK, GEORGE S. (LT. CMDR.): What is it?

KIRK, WINONA O. (LT.): It's a girl. She's beautiful, George.

KIRK, GEORGE S. (LT. CMDR.): What are we going to call her?

KIRK, WINONA O. (LT.): We could name her after your grandmother.

KIRK, GEORGE S. (LT. CMDR.): No way are we naming her after crazy grandma Izzy. We should name her after your mom. Genevieve. Ginny.

KIRK, WINONA O. (LT.): Ginny. Okay, Ginny it is. You should be here, George.

KIRK, GEORGE S. (LT. CMDR.): Honey, can you hear me?

KIRK, WINONA O. (LT.): I can hear you.

KIRK, GEORGE S. (LT. CMDR.): I love you so much, honey, you and Sam and Ginny, so much. I lo--"

 **TRANSMISSION TERMINATED**

  


 

\------

  
Ginny doesn't hit on the beautiful cadet at the bar because she necessarily wants to get her hands up the woman's skirt (though that wouldn't exactly be a terrible way to end the night), but because she can see intelligence in those dark eyes and she's in the mood for some witty flirting after being treated like a dumb barfly townie by at least a dozen male cadets tonight.

And, okay, so maybe she's dressed like a dumb barfly townie, with the tight jeans and the low-cut top and a ring of dark liner around her eyes, but she's seriously smart and seriously sick of everyone with a dick treating her like her tits are bigger than her brain, which is just insulting on all sorts of levels since her tits are _tiny_.

What she _hadn't_ expected had been for the female cadet to treat her like a stupid barfly townie, too.

"Buy you a drink, sailor?"

The cadet gives her a half-amused, half-exasperated look and says, "No, thanks, I've got this myself."

This girl looks to be a challenge and Ginny's always loved a challenge. "Don't you even want to know my name before you turn me down?"

"I'm fine without it," she says, brushing her long dark hair behind her shoulder with a minimum of fuss and an economy of motion. Ginny's captivated by this woman's seemingly unconscious grace.

"You _are_ fine without it," Ginny tells her with a smile that never fails to keep the free drinks coming when she's the one being pursued; when she's doing the pursuing, a smile like that usually results in a happy ending for all involved. "It's Ginny Kirk."

Ginny does a mental victory dance when the woman smiles back just a little, maybe a bit grudgingly. "My name's Uhura."

"They don't have last names in your world?"

"Uhura is my last name."

"You know, I'm not generally in the habit of addressing a beautiful woman by her last name," Ginny tells her, hoping to weasel out this woman's first name without having to actually ask her for it. Call it a personal challenge to herself or Ginny being too damned stubborn; both are pretty much accurate descriptions of the situation.

Uhura laughs and she probably thinks it's dismissive, but to Ginny, that laugh is reason enough to keep talking to this woman. Ginny knows she's always been a bit backwards about people's reactions to her, but when the prize is the possibility of this woman in her bed, she finds that she doesn't care quite so much as she might otherwise.

"Well, it'll just have to do," Uhura says, downing her shot of Jack like a pro, "since that's all you'll be getting out of me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Ginny says, sidling right up into Uhura's personal space, resting her hand low on the other woman's back, the tips of her fingers just barely brushing against the swell of her ass. "I'm expecting to get a thoroughly debauched moan or two out of you later."

Uhura laughs again, but doesn't make a move to dislodge Ginny's hand, which is always a good sign. Ginny presses her fingers just a little more firmly against Uhura and scoots just the tiniest bit closer, angling her head slightly to the right, getting in prime position for the liplock that she feels is quite imminent.

"Is that right?" Uhura asks so quietly Ginny can barely hear her over the pounding of the music. It's an invitation to move closer and Ginny's never been one to turn down such an invitation and she moves even closer, until she can feel Uhura's breath against her lips.

"Maybe even my name paired with that of your deity of choice," Ginny says, her lips brushing against Uhura's with every word. She smirks, just the tiniest bit, when Uhura's eyes widen, her pupils completely blown and before either of them can blink Ginny's lips are pressed firmly against Uhura's and Uhura makes this little noise in the back of her throat and Ginny's absolutely gone, just gone.

They're just starting to really get into it, tongues sliding together, Uhura's hands underneath the hem of Ginny's shirt, her fingers creeping under the waistband of Ginny's jeans, Ginny's left hand firmly planted on Uhura's ass while her right creeps up Uhura's lean thigh and underneath her skirt, the small of Uhura's back pressed against the edge of the bar, when a fight breaks out only a few feet from them and a drunk, sprawling body slams into them, throwing them both to the side.

Ginny lands hard on her ass while Uhura lands in the lap of the guy sitting at the bar next to them, earning a startled grunt from everyone involved.

"Oh, it is _on_ ," Ginny says, pushing herself to her feet, glad she wore her favorite (but slightly ratty) tennis shoes instead of the extremely cute (but extremely impractical) heels she almost decided on earlier. Flats are so much more conducive to ass kicking than heels.

She's only managed to get in a punch or two before a piercing whistle splits the air and everyone pauses. Ginny shakes out her hand as her eyes land on the officer standing in the bar's open door looking deeply disapproving. He looks familiar.

"Everyone out," he says and that voice… Ginny knows she's heard it before. Maybe he's served with Mom? But, no, that can't be it, the only time Ginny's ever met any of Mom's fellow officers was during the time Mom was stationed at the shipyards when Ginny was a kid and she doesn't remember this guy from there.

He meets her eye, his eyebrow quirking, and Ginny remembers that look from over a decade ago when a Starfleet cadet came out to the house to talk to Mom about the _Kelvin_ and Captain Robau and Dad's twelve minutes behind the wheel and Ginny suddenly wishes she didn't look so much like Mom because she knows, she _knows_ , she's about to be recognized.

"Dammit," she mutters under her breath, pushing her hair out of her eyes with the hand she hasn't bruised to all hell.

"Genevieve Kirk," he finally says, his gaze flickering along her body, sizing her up, probably trying to fit her into the neat little mold of the person he thinks she should be.

"Captain Pike," she says, glancing at his stripes, confirming her guess at his rank. "Fancy meeting you here."

  


\------

 **SUBSPACE TRANSMISSION FROM KIRK, GENEVIEVE I. (CADET), STARFLEET ACADEMY, TO KIRK, WINONA O. (CMDR.), _U.S.S. COPERNICUS_ (NCC-0913):**

You'll never guess who I ran into the other day. Do you remember that cadet who did his dissertation on the _Kelvin_ , the one who came out to the house to talk to you about it? Pike? Well, turns out he's Captain Pike now and a recruiting officer for the Academy until the _Enterprise_ is completed. Turns out he's pretty persuasive, too, since I'm in San Francisco right now.

I know I was never too keen on joining up, but we talked, Pike and me, for a while and I think this might be the best thing for me. I start classes next week and I've already met a couple of people and I'm honestly excited about this and I hope you are, too.

I called Sam before I left and he's going to close up the house so that you don't come home to another unintentional science experiment in the fridge. I would've done it myself, but this whole thing was really last minute and there just wasn't time.

Well, I've got to get going. I've got another round of intake tests followed by uniform fittings, you know, all that fun stuff nobody bothers to tell you about before you sign up. I'll call you again soon.

Love you. Miss you.

 **TRANSMISSION ENDED**

  


\------

About halfway through her first semester, Ginny realizes that, while she's a decent pilot, she's not a huge fan of actually being behind the controls of a shuttle simulator. She's much better at being in the second seat or, even better, being the one giving orders a safe distance away from any and all buttons.

"Not bad, Kirk," Sulu, her copilot for the day, says as the simulator displays her scores on the main console. Ginny lets out a deep breath, her stomach still a bit jittery from a near miss into a cliff face a few minutes ago; these simulators are way too realistic for her tastes, all shaky and loud and she thinks she's finally starting to understand Bones's aviaphobia.

"Thanks," is all she says, though, running through the simulator's shut-down procedures. She's got to think about a few of the steps; usually, she's able to book a time earlier in the day and doesn't have to do anything more than log off, but a rescheduled exam in Interspecies Ethics left her with no choice but the last time slot of the day and the added responsibility of making sure the simulator is properly shut down and secured.

"I'm serious," Sulu says, shrugging out of his safety straps. "You did good."

"I almost plowed into the side of a mountain."

"But you didn't!"

"Has anyone ever told you you're too damned cheerful sometimes, Sulu?" she asks, well aware she's the last person in the galaxy who should grumping about someone else's level of cheer. She must be channeling Bones today. She'll have to check later that they haven't accidentally switched personalities completely; being a crotchety old man would _suck_.

"All the damned time," Sulu answers with a grin, sweeping his arm wide to indicate she should be the first to exit. It's a little disconcerting; until she'd met Bones, she'd thought that chivalry is dead, so she's not used to seeing it from anyone but him.

Ginny makes sure to take advantage of it, swinging her hips just a little more than she normally would and giving herself a mental high five for deciding on the skirted uniform this morning instead of the trouser option she normally wears, but she'd shaved last night and Ginny is not one to let smooth legs go to waste.

The only reason she hears Sulu's breathing speed up is because she's listening for it, but that doesn't change the fact that he's noticed her gorgeous ass and her legs up to _here_.

"How about we go get a drink, celebrate the fact you didn't plow us into a mountain?" Sulu asks, his hand low on Ginny's back. It's a tactic Ginny herself likes to use, mainly because it's a move that never fails to send Ginny's thoughts straight into the gutter.

"How about we skip the drinks and get straight to the celebrating?" Ginny counters, turning and pressing Sulu against the side of the simulator. She knows there are security cameras in all the simulator rooms, but she can't bring herself to care right now.

"Here? Are you sure?" Sulu asks, his voice jumping half an octave when Ginny gets a hand on him through his trousers. It's endearing, really.

"Why not? Give the security guys something to watch besides an empty room."

"Ooh-kay," Sulu stutters out, his fingers digging into Ginny's hips when Ginny gets a hand inside his pants, her fingers wrapping around his rapidly hardening cock. His hips jerk forward, pushing his dick further into Ginny's grip and she smirks at him, twisting her wrist and running her hand down his length to graze the tips of her fingers over his balls.

"Like that?" she asks, looking up at Sulu through her eyelashes.

Sulu answers by reversing their positions and smashing his mouth to hers. The kiss is sloppy and brutal and Ginny absolutely _loves_ it. Which, of course, means that just as Ginny is working her hand free of Sulu's pants to get to work on his zipper that security comes bursting into the room.

"Shit," Sulu says. He's panting, his head bowed over Ginny's shoulder, his breath hitting her ear with every exhalation.

And Ginny, because she can't seem to ever think before she speaks, calls out to the security guards, "You guys have terrible timing, you know that?"

  


\------

 **COPY OF DISCIPLINARY REPORT (FORM 37D-1):**

NAME: Genevieve Isabella Kirk  
SERIAL NUMBER: SC937-0176CEC  
RANK: Cadet, Third Class

DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT:  
Cadet Kirk, upon routine inspection of her barracks, was found to be in possession of contraband, more specifically what was believed to be Romulan ale. Cadet Kirk was placed on academic suspension while an analysis of the liquid was performed and was fully reinstated when it was proven that the liquid was Terran vodka and blue food dye.

DISCIPLINARY ACTION RECOMMENDED:  
An official warning and permanent notation of the incident in Cadet Kirk's file.

AS THE REPORTING OFFICER, I CERTIFY THAT ALL INFORMATION CONTAINED HEREIN IS ACCURATE AND COMPLETE.

Christopher Pike, Captain

  


\------

Once upon a time, Ginny Kirk made a habit of getting into trouble, both serious and minor, but no matter what, the cops usually ended up involved. Since she's been at the Academy, though, she's made a habit of staying _out_ of trouble as much as possible. The stakes are higher now and she can't afford to be called in front of the Admiralty if she wants out of here next year well on her way to captain.

Ginny thinks of this mindset as pure pragmatism. Bones says it's late onset maturity, but Ginny shoots him down because, hello? Ginny is _not_ mature, nor will she ever be. Mature is _boring_.

It's _that_ mindset that has Ginny taking the Russian kid from the Academy's satellite campus under her wing when he's in San Francisco a handful of times during the year. It makes sense; they're both in the tactical division of Command, though Chekov's also doing all the navigation courses on top of that, but at least they've got some common ground. The kid's also a champion drinker, which is another something they've got in common.

"Ha! I win!" he crows, swaying dangerous from where he's perched on top of Ginny's desk surrounded by empty shot glasses, waving his empty beer bottle around like some sort of banner or something.

Ginny takes one last gulp of her own beer before dropping the empty bottle and watching it roll under her bed. "Dammit," she says, folding her arms and laying them across the top of Chekov's thighs before dropping her head onto them. "I think I shoulda stopped about twenty minutes ago."

"You will not be sick on me, will you?" Chekov asks, resting his hand on Ginny's head, his fingers gently massaging her skull. It's absolutely _heavenly_.

"Naw, I'll be fine, just gimme a minute," Ginny answers, turning her head a bit to try to get Chekov's hand on that spot right behind her ear that's pounding in time with her pulse. Instead, Chekov makes this weird gasping, groaning sort of noise and the magic fingers disappear from Ginny's head. "Noooo, don't stop. Feels nice. Feels good."

"Is inappropriate," Chekov mumbles (at least that what Ginny thinks he mumbles; could have been anything, though, really, not that she'd be able to tell right now through that accent of his), but he doesn't try to dislodge Ginny from her rather comfortable sprawl across his lap.

"Whatever you say, s'long as you don't make me move," Ginny says, "'cause I'm pretty sure my head might fall off if you did." Chekov makes a little noise of protest, but Ginny ignores him, burrowing her head deeper into her arms. "Imma just rest here for a while, 'kay?"

"Why must you rest in my lap? Why not in your own bed?"

"'Cause your lap's here and my bed's all the way over there," Ginny answers, feeling her arms twitching a little as she drifts closer and closer to unconsciousness. "'Sides, I like you, kid."

Chekov's hand is on her head again, his fingers carding gently through her hair. "I like you, too, Kirk."

"That's nice," Ginny mumbles, not quite sure if she's commenting on what Chekov said or the feel of his hand on her head. "Maybe I'll show you how much I like you in the morning."

If Chekov answers, Ginny doesn't hear it because, based on the gap in her memory, she assumes she passes out then. When she comes to, she's still sprawled across Chekov's lap, but the sun's shining into the room, its rays piercing her eyes and causing her already throbbing head to vehemently protest. Chekov's hand is still in her hair, but he's slumped against the wall, his breath huffing in a way that could almost be called a snore, but not quite.

Ginny pushes herself upright, her back creaking and her head and stomach protesting fairly violently against any movement; she's barely gotten her head over the wastebasket next to her desk before she's throwing up everything she's ever eaten in her entire life.

When she's finally done being sick, she just sits as still as possible, forehead against her knees, breathing deeply in through her nose despite the overpowering stench of vomit. After a few minutes, she hears Chekov stirring and then he's sliding from the desk to the floor at Ginny's side, his hands rubbing circles against her back.

"So sex is out of the question?" he asks and Ginny can't help but snort out the least ladylike laugh she's ever uttered.

"Yeah, kid, sex is out."

  


\------

 **SUBSPACE TRANSMISSION FROM KIRK, WINONA O. (CMDR.), _U.S.S. COPERNICUS_ (NCC-0913), TO KIRK, GENEVIEVE I. (CAPTAIN), _U.S.S. ENTERPRISE_ (NCC-1701):**

Congratulations! I'm sorry I couldn't be there for your commissioning ceremony, but there was just no way for me to get there on time, even if I had been granted leave. I did watch the news coverage, though, and I was left wondering why my beautiful daughter had a black eye and a half-healed cut across her cheek. Hasn't Leonard been doing his job? Or was this Starfleet PR bullshit? If it's the latter, then I completely understand. If not, Leonard and I are going to have words and I'm sure that's something we can all agree would be less than pleasant.

Please, Ginny, please be careful out there. I know you're impulsive, but please try not to give me any more heart attacks than necessary. Listen to your first officer and trust your crew. You're going to be a great captain, but it's going to take time. Don't expect perfection straight out of the gate.

I so proud of you, sweetheart, so proud. I love you so much.

Hoping to hear from you sooner than next year,  
Mom

 **TRANSMISSION ENDED**

  


\------

Ginny hadn't really give much thought into how she'd like to celebrate her birthday this year, the first of her captaincy, but she's fairly certain she wouldn't have included capture by pissed off former allies and imprisonment in a teeny, tiny, _freezing_ cell with her first officer.

"Well," she says, after she's spent enough time banging on their cell door that her hand's completely black and blue. "I'm not sure we're getting out of here any time soon." She flexes her hand, wincing when that puts pressure on the freshly bruised flesh.

Spock merely cocks his head from where he's sitting in the lotus position in the corner of the room. He opens his mouth to speak, but Ginny makes sure to cut that off at the pass.

"Yeah, I don't want to hear 'I told you so' from you right now, Spock," she says, dropping down to sit next to Spock. She makes sure not to actually touch him, but the heat coming off of him, even from a few inches away, is a welcome relief from the frigid air. "I am _so_ not in the mood for that right now."

"I was merely going to suggest, Captain, that you conserve your strength, as we do not know when we might be able to make our escape," Spock says, completely ignoring the death glare Ginny's throwing his way. Maybe the death glare only works when Bones is doing it.

"So what am I supposed to do, just sit here?" Ginny asks, her fingers itching with the desire to _do_ something. She's never been very good at sitting still.

"Of course not," Spock says and Ginny could swear he almost sounds affronted. It's almost enough to make her smile.

Almost.

"We should work on a strategy for our eventual escape as it seems that blunt force will not work to free us."

"That sounds an awful lot like just sitting here," Ginny accuses him. She cups her hands together and blows into them before rubbing them together, ignoring the pain in her bruised hand and trying to concentrate on the small bit of warmth in her skin.

"It does not require using up our strength needlessly," Spock says and while the words sound like agreement, his tone is anything but. "But it is not 'just sitting around.'"

Ginny doesn't say anything because there's really not anything to say. She's too cold to argue semantics with Spock. Goddamn Starfleet, making their uniforms too damn thin to do any good in anything other than ideal temperatures.

She's not sure how long they sit there in silence, Ginny shivering and inching her way ever closer and closer to Spock, who's still managing to put off excessive amounts of heat. How he isn't freezing his ass off is a mystery, but Ginny's not about to question it.

"Captain, what are you doing?" Spock finally asks once Ginny's practically plastered against his side and trying to leech all of his warmth into her frozen extremities.

"I'm cold, you're warm," Ginny says and she's proud to note that she keeps the shivers she feels out of her voice. "It's only logical to try to share warmth."

And to Ginny's everlasting surprise, Spock simply shifts, his arm coming around Ginny's back and before she knows it, she's ensconced in Spock's lap with both of his arms holding her firmly in place.

"Wow, Spock, if I didn't know better, I'd almost think you liked me," Ginny says, squirming a bit to get comfortable. Spock is surprisingly bony.

"As you said, it is logical to share warmth," Spock says, his voice stiff. And if Ginny's not mistaken, his voice isn't the _only_ thing that's stiff.

Well, isn't _that_ interesting?

Ginny squirms again, this time with more purpose. Spock's arms tighten around her, trying to hold her still.

"Captain, could you please refrain from such movements?" he asks and, yes, he's sounding just the tiniest bit tense. Ginny gives herself a mental high five.

"Did you know the best way to share heat," Ginny says, worming a hand underneath Spock's shirt until her palm is pressed against warm flesh, "is skin to skin contact?"

"I do not believe that would be the wisest course of action," Spock protests, but he doesn't make a move to displace her hand.

Ginny chooses to take that non-action as an agreement, which is why her fingers are dipping into the waistband of Spock's trousers when the security detail busts down the door of their cell and Bones and Sulu rush in with thermal blankets held at the ready.

"Good god," Bones groans, slapping his hand over his eyes theatrically, while Sulu laughs his ass off. "I did not ever need to see that, Gin."

"Well, then you should've come twenty minutes ago or an hour from now," Ginny says as Sulu helps her to her feet. She even lets him wrap a blanket around her shoulders. She's found it's good for her crew to feel useful and she's feeling indulgent right now. "It's not my fault you can't time a rescue right."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," Bones says. He throws the blanket he's holding at Spock's head before storming out of the cell and Ginny just laughs.

  


\------

 **COPY OF ENGINEERING REQUISITION FORM 18.27C-4:**

FILED ON: 2259.156  
FILED BY: Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer, U.S.S. Enterprise

(037) HYDROSPANNERS, SIZE 14  
(022) HYDROSPANNERS, SIZE 9  
(012) USER INTERFACE SCREENS, 45.7 CM x 30.4 CM  
(014) USER INTERFACE SCREENS, 1.5 M x 0.9 M  
(173) STYLUSES, STANDARD SIZE  
(001) WARP CORE

ADDITIONAL NOTES:  
Please rush delivery of (001) WARP CORE as it is essential to our continued survival.

REQUISITION APPROVED BY: Genevieve Kirk, Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise

  


\------

Ginny isn't sure exactly how she and Christine become friends, but at some point in the past year, girl's night has become a semi-regular occurrence. They don't do anything like paint each other's nails or braid each other's hair (except that one time when Ginny got whammied with some sort of Rapunzel curse). No, what they do do is watch bad action movies, drink top shelf whiskey, and talk about men.

"Oh my god, just hit that already," Ginny moans after Christine's latest rant about Scotty's pathetic puppy dog crush.

"Why would I do that?" Christine asks, attempting to flip her hair and smacking herself in the face instead. Maybe they should've laid off the booze a while ago.

"Maybe because he's smitten with you and you could use a good lay," Ginny says, very carefully pouring herself a new drink. "And, I swear to god, if you do not, I will."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"I know you know what he looks like," Ginny says. "I've caught you staring enough times." Christine has the grace to blush and it looks absolutely adorable and Ginny barely holds herself back from pinching her cheeks. "And I've seen the way he treats the ship. If he's even half as attentive in bed, then I will be one happy lady."

"Oh, god, don't say shit like that," Christine groans. "I do not need that visual."

"Just imagine it's you," Ginny says, flopping her hand around in a gesture meant to convey that she doesn't particularly care, but looks more like she's having a minor seizure.

"Oh, god," Christine says again, this time in a completely different tone of voice. It's one Ginny's heard before, the two times she and Christine have fooled around. "Okay, so, yeah, that's kind of hot."

"Then do something about it!" Ginny says, trying her best to put on her Captain voice, but the hiccup at the end probably doesn't help.

"I can't!" Christine says and that's it, Ginny's _so_ over this.

"Okay, then, fine," Ginny says, pushing herself to her feet and striding from the room. Okay, so it's more like stumbling, but she's had a lot to drink already tonight and she's not in the mood to split hairs.

Christine stumbles after her, calling out, "Where are you going? You cannot be doing what I think you're doing. That's just evil, Genevieve. _Evil_."

Ginny does her best to ignore Christine's ranting and just leads the way to where she _knows_ Scotty can be found at this time of night: the Engineering observation room. Christine is hanging off her arm, trying to pull her back down the corridor when they get there, but Ginny just plows on, draging Christine into the observation room.

Ginny's eyes go straight to the warp core engines visible through the glass wall, as enamored of her pretty lady as she's ever been. She doesn't even notice Scotty until he speaks, even though she came here looking for him.

"Captain, Chrissy, what are you ladies doing here this time of night?" Ginny blinks and Scotty's suddenly right in front of her. "Are you drunk?" He sounds far too amused for Ginny's taste.

"Scotty, I have a question for you," Ginny says at the same time Christine says, "Yes, we are and we're just headed back to my quarters now."

Scotty throws an indulgent smile Christine's way before turning back to Ginny and Ginny already knows the answer to her question, but she has to ask it now, if for no other reason than to completely mortify Christine.

"Would you like to fuck me?" Ginny asks, making sure to enunciate very, very clearly.

"No, Captain, actually I wouldn't," Scotty says very seriously, though she can see a smile fighting to make its way onto his face. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Ginny says magnanimously. "Now, I have another question. Would you like to fuck Christine?"

Both Scotty and Christine start to sputter and they both turn the most attractive shade of red and, yep, they both want to fuck each other.

"My work here is done," Ginny announces, shoving Christine at Scotty before heading for the door. She stops in the doorway and says over her shoulder, "Now, please, for the love of god, just fuck already."

She giggles the entire way back to her quarters.

  


\------

 **ACTING CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE 2260.256:**

I have filed an incident report with Starfleet Command regarding our recent encounter with dissident Romulans, including complete damage and casualty reports. I expect to hear back from the Admiralty with our orders in the next seventy-two hours. At this time, I dare not speculate on what those order might entail.

Mister Scott reports that all hull breaches have been repaired as of 1350 hours today and that Engineering teams have begun working on internal repairs. Fifty-seven crewmen still remain without quarters, though rotating schedules have ensured that everyone has a bed in which to sleep.

Doctor McCoy remains in critical condition in the secondary sickbay. Doctor M'Benga, as acting chief medical officer, has confirmed Captain Kirk's temporary removal from command, pursuant to Starfleet Regulation 619. To the best of my knowledge, Captain Kirk has not left Doctor McCoy's bedside since she removed herself from command.

  


\------

Ginny's always known that the biobeds in Sickbay are the most uncomfortable things in the universe. She's been confined to them enough times to be able to say this and actually believe it. She's never expected that the chairs in Sickbay are even worse. It's not like Bones has ever complained about the time he's spent in them, next to Ginny's bedside.

But she's been in this chair for nearly two days now, just watching Bones breathe, hoping that with each breath he'll wake up, and she has to revise her opinion. The chairs are way worse than the biobeds and not only for the physical discomfort. She can't imagine sitting vigil next to Bones's bedside ever again and she has no idea how he's managed to do it for her so many times without going completely insane.

She remembers calling down to Sickbay in the wake of the Romulan attack, anticipating hearing Bones' cranky status report and feeling her heart drop to her toes when Doctor M'Benga responded to the hail instead. She remembers asking after Bones, remembers barely remembering to hand off the conn to Spock before getting to Sickbay as fast as she could. She remembers taking herself out of command, remembers stripping off her gold tunic and replacing it with a blue scrub shirt from Bones's locker. She remembers sitting down next to Bones's bed and refusing to get up for anything but the need to take a piss.

She remembers the crippling fear in her gut and wondering if this is how her mother felt the day her father died.

And that's another punch in the gut, the realization that she's in love with Bones. She's surprisingly okay with it, but she just wishes it had come in a less dramatic way.

"Dammit, Bones," she mutters, curling her fingers around his and squeezing as hard as she can. "It can never be easy, can it?"

"Not with you involved." It's quiet and raspy and it's the best sound Ginny's ever heard in her entire life because it's _Bones_.

Ginny's out of her chair and bent over Bones before she has time to blink and then she can't stop blinking because if she does, she's going to start blubbering all over the place and she has just enough dignity left to not want that. "You have no damn room to talk, Bones," she says, her hand still clenched tightly in his. "Do you know how much you scared me?"

"Do you know how much you scare me every day?" Bones rasps out. Ginny lets go of him long enough to pour him a cup of water from the pitcher next to the bed. As soon as he's done drinking, she perches on the edge of his bed, his hand clasped between both of hers.

"I'm starting to get an idea, yeah," she says quietly, her fingertips stroking over the veins and bumps on the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," she says, meeting his eye, "for all the times I've scared years off your life."

"I'm sorry I never told you," Bones says, his fingers curling lightly around Ginny's.

"I'm not sure I would have been ready to hear it before now," Ginny admits. She meets Bones's eye then and says, "Not that I've actually heard anything yet, mind you."

Bones snorts and then winces, and Ginny rests one hand on his chest where he'd been pinned under a piece of fallen bulkhead just two days ago. She'd snuck a peek at his chart as soon as Doctor M'Benga had left her alone with Bones after hours of surgery and it hadn't been pretty. She can't imagine, even with all the painkillers Bones is on, that it feels very good right now.

"I love you, all right?" Bones says, his grip on her fingers tightening. "Are you happy now?"

"Yeah," Ginny answers, gripping his hand back just as tightly. "Yeah, I think I am."  



End file.
